Rolling with it


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I’ve written about three or four different drafts, but I can’t seem to figure out what I really want to say. I sit around and stare at the screen, or a piece of paper, for hours, hoping my words will come to me as they once did, but I found myself bottling everything up again.

The problem is I have no idea where to even begin. I know there are people out there who would/will say to start anywhere or with any topic, I’ve been one of those people, but it’s not as easy as it sounds right now. I just have so much going on and I can’t hit the pause button. I want to go back to a few months ago and say what I need to say, do what I need to do, but it’s too late.

 And now I’m rambling. Awesome.

Guess I’ll roll with it until I hit a wall.

If I’m being honest with myself in this moment in time, I’m feeling pretty lost. My love for writing hit the back burner, I want to read books to distract myself, but I don’t know what I want to read. I want to talk, yet I don’t want to share my feelings. I’m finding myself hating everyone, again.

I’m a hot mess with depression and my insomnia is back.

Is it too much to ask to not feel so engulfed with depression and uncertainty?

It looks like I’m done for now.

No Point to This

I haven’t been sleeping well (thanks insomnia), I had to put together games, make gifts by hand (glue guns are the devil) and make gift bags for a friend’s bridal shower. On top of that work has been complete shit, depression has been beating me down and that’s not including the migraines I’ve been experiencing.

I’m so mentally exhausted right now, it’s such a bitch and I feel like I’m going to explode on people soon. I feel my temper becoming so short and as much as I try to tame it, it feels as if I’m losing my grip on the reins.

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Credit: Cristian Newman

All this bullshit has not only kept me from writing and reading (I’ve been way too exhausted for the two things that really help ease my mind), but it’s making me resent everything and everyone in my life right now. I am getting pulled in different directions and I can’t catch my breath. On top of that I am always doing something for others, but when I need to think of myself and what’s best for me I somehow become the bad guy. I guess the saying is correct, if you give an inch, they’ll take a mile.

I’ve said it before and probably even wrote it somewhere around here, its okay to say ‘no’, I just can’t seem to take my own advice.

 

Anyway, I’m rambling/venting at this point. There’s no real point to this post. I simply needed to get this off my chest before I scream at work.

 

Day 4: Cigarette Free

It has been four days since I’ve had a cigarette. The rougher parts are passing, hopefully. As expected, I’m still craving them and I’m more irritable than usual. I’m feeling myself becoming more secluded so I can avoid releasing all this aggression onto someone who doesn’t deserve it. Just because I’m not letting the chemical doused tobacco destroy my lungs anymore doesn’t give me the right to be an asshole. I will say this; I forgot how much of a challenge it is not having the crutch of a cigarette when things are difficult to deal with.

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Credit: Luther Bottrill

I have to stick to the positives. My breathing feels a hell of a lot better. I don’t feel like I have additional weight on my chest and I haven’t been randomly coughing. No longer having the disgusting cigarette smell on my fingers and clothes are a huge bonus.

I really can’t pick this habit back up, again. I say it every few years, but I need to make the effort to stick to it this time around. The statistics are there, the horror stories are there, the death count is there, the personal problems I’ve encountered from smoking were clearly there to sway me from ever picking one up again.

…stupid addictions…

On Full Display

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I have no bed sheets on my mattress. Clean and dirty clothes are scattered throughout my bedroom. It feels like I haven’t slept in days. After ten minutes of cleaning, I had to stop. The mental exhaustion was setting in. It was 9:50AM when I finished the three fingers of pinot Grigio. Not even a cigarette helped to soothe me. Even the thought of taking a shower makes my body ache. The numbness is becoming all consuming. I feel like a scared, lonely child, sinking deeper into the darkness. All I want to do a sleep, but that’s only a quick fix. Now I just want to leave my house and disappear with nothing but the tank top on my back. This is my depression talking, it’s on full display. It thrives in turning me into this weak, little bitch, wallowing in random sorrow. I’ll fight it again, but for now I’ll take the L. I need to sleep. Even if it’s for an hour. I need some kind of relief.

When it wants

The blue skies abruptly changed to a sorrowful gray, mirroring the darkness that’s consuming me in this moment*. I’m fighting back the hot tears that are determined to escape me; I don’t want to show weakness in front of strangers on this train. Bad enough I can’t stand when eyes are on me at any time, if I start the waterworks there will definitely be some concerned glances or people who just want to pry to see what’s making me upset.

It’s frustrating because I shouldn’t be feeling this way. Life isn’t perfect and can be problematic at times,

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Credit: Alexander Lam

but it isn’t as awful as it could be. There have been incidents in my life that have been awful and I’m not experiencing those things now. That is something I should be thankful for, always. In my logical thoughts I know it’s only the stress and the depression that’s making things appear to be darker in my world, it’s just so hard to ignore such a dark cloud hovering above that doesn’t seem to be passing by anytime soon.

I’m not sure what else to say in this post. All I want to put out there are these feelings that come and go. I have my good days/weeks and my bad. My depression comes and goes whenever it wants. I truthfully don’t see a permanent fix, but there are ways to manage it. I just wish I could better manage it when it hits me out of no where. Depression is serious and unpredictable. It doesn’t matter where you are, what you’re doing or who you’re with. It creeps up when it wants.

* This happened at the end of the week last week. I’m just now finding the time to post it. 

Listening to Your WIP – #WritingTip #amwriting

I have a feeling I found something that will help me so much with my writing process. You have no idea how excited I am in this moment. It feels like Christmas morning! How have I not heard about this before?! Thank you, Marcia!

The Write Stuff

We’ve talked about this in the past, but as I avail myself of the process more and more, I now wonder how I wrote anything without stopping to hear my words now and then. At the very least, how did I dare submit my revised document to an editor, never having done so? And yet it’s SO easy.

Like many of you, I have a regular writing routine, even though it got a bit lost in the post-hurricane shuffle. I’m getting back to it again. I write every morning, immediately after taking care of any emails that won’t wait. I always plan to write at least two or three hours, but more often end up writing for longer periods of time. (Thank you, Fitbit, for reminding me to get up every hour and walk for a few minutes.)

The first thing I do when I sit down to write is…

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Buzzed Pillow Talk

We were both fairly buzzed as we lied in bed with our legs intertwined beneath the covers. We held hands and talked for a while, simply being happy, laughing and present with one another. Somehow we reached the topic of former lovers and past relationships. Paddy named off some of the females he was with, where it went wrong and he never shied away from his own mistakes that caused issues. (Another reason why I love that dork. He doesn’t make himself look like some perfect person. He knows he’s flawed and doesn’t hide it.) Some stories that were being shared were either hilarious or completely mind fucked me because I wasn’t expecting to hear how some situations unfolded.

(I wish I could share them here, but I didn’t ask him if I could discuss the encounters and/or horror stories on my site. I’ll ask him later and, if given permission, post the stories on a future post.)

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Credit: Becca Tapert

That being said, after our discussion, I began to think of something and I would like some opinions. Because we were both buzzed, him more so than me, should I have stopped him from telling me such personal stories? It may not be a big deal to some, but what if there was a reason why those stories weren’t shared when he was completely sober? I may be overthinking it too much because overthinking/analyzing is what I do regularly, but I’m genuinely curious to know what others would have done or not done.